


Don't Forgive and Pretend to Forget

by KenyaKetchup (temptedmelibea)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, I can't write happy things to save my life, Multi, Rejection, Unrequited Love, a bad attempt at soriel, cheating kinda, frisk is over 18 halleluah, soriel?, this is mostly frisk/sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptedmelibea/pseuds/KenyaKetchup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Frisk and Sans had a history that nobody else remembered and he and Frisk were trying hard to pretend to forget."</p>
<p>There is a timeline in which Sans gets engaged to Toriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Forgive and Pretend to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this oneshot just for fun, as a break from Creep.

It was the happiest moment of Sans' many lives and he really wished it didn't also feel _so bitter_.

 

He was finally engaged to Tori. He'd asked her tonight. It had been a perfect date full of good food and bad jokes, fun laughs and making out. And he had been secretly _so nervous_ , not once in his many timelines had he ever actually proposed, but when he'd finally gotten down on one knee and asked Tori—

 

"knock, knock," he joked, trying hard to ignore the feeling of his soul anxiously pounding in his chest.

 

Her eyes had gone as wide with surprise as the full moon outside. "S-Sans…? Are you…? Who's there?"

 

A pause as he gathered his courage. And then, very nervously, he let out, "m-mary..."

 

He didn’t get to finish the joke.

 

Suddenly Tori was oh him, hugging him excitedly as if he had offered her the moon. She looked _so happy_. And she eased all his worries away with a _huge smile_ and an unequivocal and excited " _Yes!_ "

 

Tori was _amazing_.

 

And so they'd danced and they'd had fun and _out of all his timelines_ it was with Tori that he felt the most at ease, it was with Tori that he felt the happiest. The goat monster may not know what she did to him, but it wasn't necessary for her to remember all the bad timelines in order for her to make this timeline one of his best. One look from her, one bad joke, one _big_ and adorable smile, and Sans would forget the bad times, Sans would forget the bad memories of the different timelines. As long as he held Tori’s hand it was like Papyrus had never once been dead, or they'd never reached the surface only to later forget, or they’d never just _any_ of the awful alternatives that might have happened and therefore _had_ happened because the kid had been curious, the kid had been _ruthless_.

 

The kid had been— _different_ , again, in this timeline. And she was always just a little different, even if her essence was always the same.

 

In this timeline, Sans and Frisk barely spoke. The kid was cool and collected, reserved even around him. And it seemed that she was as determined to go out of her way to avoid Sans as he was determined to avoid her. They were friends in this timeline, _sort_ of. Just _barely_ , in the loosest sense of the word. They were friends in the sense that they shared group outings and shared mutual friends. And Sans and Frisk mostly just exchanged polite pleasantries. For the most part they just left each other alone.

 

Frisk had never once made a serious attempt to befriend him, and Sans…

 

Sans had been the one to first push the kid away, when they’d first met in this timeline, and he’d purposefully avoided the joke with the whoopee cushion.

 

They weren’t as close friends as they had once been. And yet _he could tell_ , he could tell from the way she sometimes looked at him, on those mornings he'd spent the night with Toriel and they’d ran into each other in the kitchen, or the times Tori insisted that they all go out for ice cream… He could tell that the kid _still remembered him_.

 

Awkward moments when Tori insisted that he and Frisk get to know each other better. Furtive glances when she thought Sans wasn't looking. Tori was a great mom to Frisk, it was one of the _many, many positive attributes_ Sans so admired about his girlfriend—his _now fiancé_ —but Tori didn't—

 

She _didn't get it_. And how could she?

 

Frisk and Sans had a history that nobody else remembered and he and Frisk were trying hard to pretend to forget.

 

Bloody moments in no mercy timelines. Bitter moments full of betrayal and hate, with his bones piercing her skin and her knife piercing his chest.

 

Sweeter moments. _Happier_ moments. Timelines full of friendship and laughs and bad jokes and—

 

And sometimes _more_. Sometimes _so much more than that_. Sometimes _love_ but it had never worked.

 

It had _never worked_ the way it worked with Toriel. And Sans had so very often told himself that their constant failure to love each other in a healthy way had been okay.

 

And it wasn't that he didn't like the kid, despite all her sins and all his resentment. He _so often more than liked the kid_. In so many timelines, he was quite sure that he _even loved_ the kid; his box of memories was full of pictures of them sharing laughs together and important mementos of a relationship that he could never seem to let go of. And _more than once_ he had even taken out the box the engagement ring he never got to give the kid and reminiscence—

 

He never _did_ get rid of that engagement ring. He probably _should_ , now that Tori was wearing one—A pretty fancy heart-shaped one so unlike the simpler one he had gotten Frisk back when she had first graduated high school and it had been the only one Sans had been able to afford—

 

But he had never gotten to be engaged to Frisk and Tori was—

 

Tori was _the future_.

 

But _Frisk_ …

 

He sometimes wished that Frisk could still be _so much more_ than just the past.

 

After the restaurant closed, they went to a bar and had some more drinks. Tori wanted to celebrate—it was a special occasion after all. And it was _so hilarious_ whenever Tori, who was once again an elementary school teacher, got drunk. She would stumble on her words adorably and say the most hilariously awful jokes—

 

Such as, “Sans, you make me so happy… He hee I’m _boney_ happy I’m with you.”

 

And Sans would snort, because as a pun that made no sense, and the joke was terrible, but the fact that still drunk  she tried and failed so miserably was adorable.

 

And they had danced and they had drank and they had celebrated until the very early hours of the morning. Then Tori had finally whispered something rather adventurous in Sans’ eardrum, and he had grinned from figurative ear to figurative ear because by the looks of it he was going to be getting lucky…

 

They took a taxi. He and Tori were going back to her place together. Sans was spending the night—they were both very giddy and drunk. And Frisk was—she staying over at Tori’s during Spring Break—but it was very late, they had not expected her to be up—

 

They had found her in the living room sitting on the couch as they'd giddily stumbled in the dark together. She had a tablet in her hands and appeared to have been drawing on it with a stylus, completely solitary with only the glow of the screen as company.

 

"Frisk! I did not expect you to be up," Tori said, her speech slurring significantly as she suppressed an embarrassed giggle.

 

His own greeting was less warm and more awkward, "hey, kid."

 

And he felt _so_ —so _deeply and shamefully guilty_ —the way he just said that while he still held Tori's hand.

 

He pushed the feeling away. He didn’t owe Frisk anything in this timeline.

 

"Welcome home, mom! Hi, Sans," was Frisk's initial response. She looked completely unfazed by their drunken presence, but Frisk had always been so much colder than Tori, so much more reserved—it was always hard for Sans to tell how the kid really felt, no matter which timeline. "Sorry I’m still up. I couldn't sleep. I have a project due at ten."

 

Sans briefly remembered that the kid had decided to go to art school again in this timeline.

 

Tori’s brows furrowed with worry. "My child,”—and Frisk was no longer a child—“you must get your rest. When will you ever stop procrastinating?"—Tori sighed—"I _do_ wonder where you got that awful habit from."

 

_And it had been from Sans_. The kid had gotten her procrastinating habit from Sans. And Sans remembered, as if it had happened just yesterday in this timeline, his multiple insistences that homework could wait, that she could just cram for her test, that attendance wasn't that important in college and _just stay in bed frisk, just stay in bed a little longer with me kiddo, i want you..._

 

He felt—he didn't know what he felt about it now. The feeling of her mouth against his, her welcoming warmth as she moved under him, and—and that had happened long ago. In this timeline, _it had never even happened_.

 

He felt a _bitter nostalgia_ and he squeezed Tori's hand a little tighter.

 

Tori misinterpreted the meaning behind his hand tightening around hers. 

 

"Erm... That being said..." Tori looked at him, suddenly beaming, with the bright eyes of someone who was looking at countless years of joy ahead of them. And it wasn't that Sans didn't feel the same way—

 

He was happy with Tori. He was _more than happy_ with Tori. Tori meant love and meant bliss and companionship.

 

And the kid had just meant—they had just been _so miserable together_ , even in their happier moments, when they had meant each other’s comfort in a world full of loneliness and despair. Theirs had been a love born out of quiet, lonely desperation. It was a love born out of pain and misery because the Resets had alienated them both from the world around them, and once they had been cast out, broken and miserable, they had found each other.

 

Being with Frisk had meant desperate kisses stolen in the dark. Bitter resentment welling in his chest. Harsh, punishing, possessively _angry_ thrusts into the Anomaly as she writhed under him, crying out his name like a prayer for absolution. And _why had she Reset?_ After their first timeline together, that had always been the underlying question, the bitterness that had spread from him and between them and enveloped them like poison.

 

If he could only ask _one thing_ to the Anomaly, before she cruelly decided to once again cause the timelines to Reset, the question would be _Why?_

 

Why Reset? Why do this to them? Hadn't she been sufficiently happy, _with him?_

 

He had tried to make her happy in _so many timelines_. He had loved her _so much_ —and that hadn’t been enough—and _why_ —

 

Why the rejection, why the Resets, why romantically start things all over again afterwards, why the dozens of timelines together, _why_ —

 

Tori's paw squeezed his phalanges. She brought him back into the happier world.

 

Sans felt ashamed. The _why_ s didn’t matter anymore. He was with Tori now and there could only be forward.

 

"That being said, Frisk, I'm glad you're awake. Sans and I have news," Tori said, beaming. She looked at him and kept tightly holding onto his hand, a flush that was due to both drunkenness and joy gracing her pretty features. And Sans could tell that Tori was really happy with him. And Sans was, too, but—

 

But looking back to the Anomaly he still felt _dread_.

 

Felt dirty. Felt bitter. Felt shame.

 

Felt extremely uncomfortable and ashamed of acting as if all that he had shared with Frisk had been nothing. They had been _so much more_ than nothing.

 

Tori beamed as she told her, "We're getting married, Frisk!" And Sans _knew_ —

 

He _knew_ from the way the kid's eyes widened slightly, the way her face fell before she put on her deceptive mask, that the kid _still_ felt something for him, even if she and Sans would _never admit it_.

 

He hated the way a twinge of hope bloomed in his chest, even as the kid offered her polite congratulations. He suppressed the hope. He was with Toriel.

 

And Tori was _so beautiful_ and she made him _so happy_.

 

 

 

They had a few more drinks in the kitchen before they’d crawled upstairs and jumped into bed. The kid had quietly left to her room at some point, and Sans tried to pay it no mind.

 

He and Tori were both drunk. He made no promises that they could really do anything in his state. But still they tried, and he kissed her, and she felt good, so different from Frisk—

 

They probably lasted about five minutes before Tori fell asleep. And Sans snorted, that was _so like Tori_. She was such a lightweight, it was adorable.

 

He loved her.

 

He planted a kiss on her cheek with sloppy magic before he got off of her and stumbled back to the kitchen. He should probably have some water. The hangover tomorrow was going to feel awful—

 

And there was still nobody there, when he went downstairs. Thank god. Frisk had really gone to bed. She’d left her tablet on and charging.

 

He drank the water and he felt like having a cigarette. And he had told Tori that he was going to quit, even if he only smoked when he drank, and he didn’t drink too often. And he really was going to quit, he knew how much Tori hated his smoking…

 

But...

 

But maybe not tonight. He still had half a pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket.

 

He went outside and thought drunkenly of Tori and thought even more of Frisk and all the different ways they never would be right for each other.

 

 

 

After a while, he put out the cigarette and went back inside.

 

He was still drunk. He didn’t know what had been in that human whiskey. But then again, surface food had always affected monsters differently.

 

He began walking to the kitchen to get another glass of water. It was almost morning now, and he already dreaded getting up the next day.

 

He considered going outside in a bit and once again watching the sunrise. He’d never get tired of watching the sunrise.

 

He must have still smelled like smoke because as soon as he walked back into the living room, he got nagged for it.

 

"You know, that's a really bad habit," Frisk's voice startled him enough to jump. A gust of nervous blue magic escaped him. He hadn't seen Frisk on his way out. Had she been hiding? The kid seemed to read his thoughts, because she told him, "I took a break from drawing. My eyes get tired staring at the screen after a while."

 

And _oh_ —

 

He almost believed her.

 

But there was something about the redness in her eyes, barely noticeable in the faint light emanating from her tablet, that made his soul twist with guilt because it almost looked like the kid had been crying.

 

Almost.

 

The kid never cried.

 

But _had_ she been crying?

 

“uh—don’t tell your mother,” he mumbled stupidly. What else was there to _say_? ‘I like to smoke, while I think of you?’ ‘You used to get turned on by the way I smelled, when I smoked near you?’

 

There were so many stupid things that just couldn’t be said.

 

Frisk rolled her eyes. She stretched. And then she told him, after a small yawn, “I think I’m finally done with this one. Wanna see?”

 

And of course— _of_ _course_ he did.

 

He remembered various timelines in which he’d bragged to anyone that would listen that his girlfriend Frisk was a great artist.

 

He sat on the couch next to her before he knew what he was even doing. And it occurred to him, after the fact, that so far in this timeline they had never been this close alone.

 

They had _really actively avoided each other_.

 

But their chances were dead. He was marrying Toriel. And—and _wow_ —

 

“is that the statue in waterfall?”

 

She smiled proudly and nodded. Sans couldn’t take his eyes away from her work. There it was, the statue of Asriel, done entirely from memory in a way that seemed pulled out of his own head.

 

“Done entirely digital,” Frisk told him. “We were supposed to draw something that filled us with hope, and I remembered the music box.”

 

And wow…

 

“how do you even remember this?” he asked her, impressed. “we got to the surface almost a decade ago.”

 

“I’ve seen it countless of times,” she told him, and it was the very first time in this timeline that she admitted to remembering. “You know how it is. After a while, it just gets engraved in your brain.”

 

And he _almost_ wanted to ask her if an engraved memory was all that he also was to her.

 

He changed the subject. "that looks pretty good. a bit freakishly amazing, actually. you’re very talented.”

 

She smiled. “Thank you. Coming from a physicist, that means a lot.”

 

He couldn’t help but grin at that. He was currently just a college professor, but once upon a time… “so how's life going for you, kid?”

 

“Pretty boring,” she told him, that small smile still gracing her lips. “Just school and sleep.”

 

“sounds like you’re living the dream,” Sans winked. And then it occurred to him, and he very casually asked— “hey, your mom told me the news that you have an actual human friend now. what happened to exclusively befriending monsters, kid? you finally in love?”

 

And he really had _no business_ to be jealous, especially in this timeline. No business to be jealous, even as his words clearly implied that she had never loved him. And he’d told himself that if Frisk was also moving on, that he _wouldn’t be jealous_. He’d told himself that if Frisk ever admitted to having _not once ever loved him_ , that he wouldn’t care—

 

But there was still a wave of bitter relief when the kid rolled her eyes and said, "Mom's only saying what she wants to think. There's nothing between me and Eric. There's… there’s no one."

 

There’s no one. There’s no one. And of course there was no one _else_.

 

Frisk had always been so collected and quiet, so _meticulously reserved_ , and throughout all their timelines it had always been just Sans— _just always, always Sans_ —whom she’d let in.

 

It had always been Sans. Maybe it was still only Sans. And what was he _thinking_ —

 

To think that _maybe she still loved him_ and he—

 

He suddenly felt himself move toward the kid.

 

And he was still drunk, he _wasn’t thinking_ —

 

But suddenly he leaned over the couch and pressed his mouth against the kid's lips. A spark of _very sloppy_ drunken magic buzzed between them. And it felt _so good_ , _so right_ at that moment, to kiss Frisk. And then the kid _kissed back_.

 

She _shouldn't_ have kissed him back, he was marrying her mother—

 

But then again _he shouldn't have kissed her, too_. He shouldn't have ever initiated. And now he found himself accepting Frisk as she deepened the kiss—

 

He conjured a sloppy tongue with whatever magic it was that he could drunkenly muster and he was suddenly on top of her, tasting her, warm and passionate and needy—

 

_Bitter, angry, desperate, bold_ —

 

And they had done this before, countless timelines. They had kissed passionately like this when Frisk couldn't find her words or Sans just needed to let her know how he felt, how hopelessly and madly in love he still was despite the kid’s constant Resets and rejections. And it surprised him how—

 

_How familiar_ she still felt against him, even after years apart—

 

How much she still tasted _just like he remembered her_ —

 

And then he started grinding hungrily against her and she moved to take off his pants—and it felt _so good_ to be doing this again, this was just like the old times, he was with Frisk, he felt like he had been waiting _ages and ages_ for this but then he—

 

But then he stopped himself,

 

" _w-wait_ , _frisk_. _i_ _can't_ — _i love tori_."

 

And the words came out so shameful and apologetic that he wasn't even sure why he'd said them.

 

The kid froze up. Her mask went back. And it was as if none of this had ever happened, as he pulled himself away from her feeling _shame_ and _self-disgust_. His own horror at his drunken actions sobered him up. And _what had he just_ _done_?

 

_What had just done to Tori..._

 

"I won't tell her," Frisk reassured him in response to the horror written on his face, his guilt. And she was once again detached, was once again cool and collected, as she once again acted like she felt nothing for him, like all those timelines they had shared together had meant nothing, like it had all been just a game—

 

And maybe it _had_ been all just a game, hadn't it? Maybe it had been all just a game because she'd always RESET. And then they'd be forced to start over once again from the beginning, or sometimes even _worse_ than just from the beginning, sometimes she would _become that different person_ and wouldn't stop until her blood was on his hands or his dust was on hers—

 

She could be _so cruel_. So _merciless_. And yet _so beautiful_ and _intriguing_ and he was attracted to her like a moth to light—

 

He had _been so often sure_ that he loved her. And now to have to _pretend_ —

 

He loved Tori but to have to go back and _pretend_ —

 

It hurt. It _fucking hurt_. He wished there hadn't been so many RESETs between them. So many resentments. So many things that had gone wrong.

 

" _sorry_ ," he told her, and for a moment he allowed himself to stop pretending. He meant that sorry in so many different ways. He was sorry that he'd kissed her, in this timeline. He was sorry that he'd killed her, in others. He was sorry that the strong love they felt for each other was lost, or perhaps had _never even existed_ —

 

He wasn't _ever sorry_ that he had loved her but sometimes he wished he knew for sure that she had at least once loved him too.

 

The kid shook her head. She tried to reassure him. "It's—It's okay. I know you're drunk. It's nothing. Congratulations, by the way," she told him, and she almost sounded sincere. "Mom's… Toriel’s a great catch. I'm sure you'll be happy, this time."

 

He felt as if a sudden window of truth had been opened and suddenly the words just came tumbling out. "frisk—frisk, i _was_ happy, those other times. i was _really happy with you_. why did you RESET?"

 

She just shook her head. “Sans, it doesn’t really matter—”

 

“i want to know,” he told her, and he was so frustrated with himself but still he told her. “you have no idea how much i’ve wondered—was it me? was it _us_? just, frisk—”

 

"It wasn't _about_ you,” she told him. “Look, just forget it— I'm glad I found what you were looking for—"

 

And he felt _so frustrated_. He—He _was_ happy with Tori but— "yeah. yeah, tori’s great. i'm _really happy with her_ but—

 

"just—just, frisk—i _really_ loved you, you know."

 

And perhaps he hated that pathetic confession but _he hated even more_ how the kid didn't even look at him.

 

"I know," was all she said.

 

And he—

 

"did you ever even love me?" The words came out bitter and the silence after them felt _worse_.

 

She took a long time to answer. "Of course I did. But does it matter?"

 

And... And _no_ , he guessed it no longer did.

 

"you could just RESET," he finally told her, and the words were like a challenge. "you could just RESET, if you really loved me, if you _really_ wanted to be with me, frisk. start from scratch. none of this would have happened—"

 

The kid smiled softly at him. "How selfish do you think me to _be_? I could never do that. Sans, if you're happy—"

 

"my happiness to you _always meant jack shit!_ ” he almost yelled at her. “i was—i was _always_ _more than_ _happy_ with you, i _wanted_ to be with you. you never cared. you always RESET—"

 

"I Reset because things went wrong," she told him. "You remember what happened to Undyne? _Papyrus?_ Life isn't always perfect after we reach the surface. If I can go back and _save_ _someone_ —"

 

"you aren’t supposed to just go back, life goes on!" And this time, he _did_ yell at her. "life goes on, and people deal with it! frisk— _so what_ if there's some suffering, _of course_ it was bad when papyrus... but kiddo, we keep going. you are not supposed to _always_ be our savior..."

 

"I can't do that," she whispered. "I hoped you understood."

 

"i hoped _you_ understood!” he yelled at her. “frisk, i always _hoped_... i'm _so tired_ of hoping."

 

And she had gone deathly quiet, now. He could tell her walls were being held up again. And he was—he was _so angry_ with this—he yelled at her some more. "you know what? _fuck this shit_. fuck _you_ , frisk—i’m _glad_ i’m marrying tori, i’m _glad_ —”

 

And he no longer was—He was no longer _that_ glad—  
  
And his hands were suddenly on her shoulders and he was—he was trying hard not to kiss her again—he was so angry— “you have _no fucking idea_ how _bad_ you’ve fucked me up with all your _RESETTING BULLSHIT!_ ”

 

She offered him a quiet “I’m really sorry—”

 

That only made him feel _worse_.  
  
“ _don’t fucking talk to me_. if you’re _really_ sorry, frisk—”

 

He—

 

His mouth was again inches from hers and _he was a mess_.

 

She had once again made him into a mess: _angry_ , _bitter_ and _resentful_. And it was she this time who saved him from himself, when she gently pushed him away and told him, “You’re drunk. You just got engaged.”

 

And then, “Go back to bed with Toriel.”

 

And he—he was so afraid that he had been about to kiss her again—

 

“this isn’t the way i wanted us to be,” he told her.

 

She gave him a little smile that never quite reached her eyes. “Me neither,” she admitted. “I always thought… You’d propose to me, y’know?”

 

And the words _stung_.

 

He _had_ almost…

 

He lied by omission. Slightly shrugged his shoulders. Felt grief.

 

Mourning. Longing. Pain.

 

She shook her head slightly and rubbed her eyes. “It’s no big deal. Just—surprised me tonight, is all.”

 

And suddenly it occurred to him that the room was lighter. The dawn had come, casting everything in a warm light. And he felt hollow, felt bitter—

 

The kid was quietly crying next to him.

 

And sometimes he did understand her urge to RESET, even though he would never admit it. Missed the darkness of the Underground, the tediousness of the repeating timelines, the way that the story that intertwined him to the kid began anew, full of potential and free of resentment.

 

He wished the Sun had never come. And eventually the kid calmed down, still quiet, still detached, still heartbroken,

 

As he was.

 

They didn’t talk to each other much after that. He barely looked at her.

 

And he wished the aftertaste of his joy with Tori hadn’t tasted so bitter.


End file.
